


Make You Mine

by Jackidy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy/pseuds/Jackidy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t matter how long it took, he just wanted to make Wellesley his. Even if it involved creeping on him in parks, unplanned rugby dates and the need to punch his brother on a semi regular basis. He’d make Wellesley his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Mine

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for both hurrrhurr and peskytimepirate (both on tumblr) because they both really boosted my confidence with cosplay New Zealand yesterday. I still don’t feel that great in it but oh lord, I was practically crying from all the love. So, since Aaid likes this ship and I’m cosplaying New Zealand with Kat as Wales later this year I thought I’d write them this. You guys have no idea how hard it is writing somebody elses OCs for nations you have them for. Though I managed to sneak my republic of Ireland in there.
> 
> Owen – Wales  
> Wellesley – New Zealand  
> Liam – Northern Ireland  
> Sean – Republic of Ireland  
> James – Australia  
> Scott - Scotland

He likes the way Wellesley smiles when they think nobody is looking, the way their lips would curve upwards slightly and that giggle when he found something funny. He wonders if he’d find it creepy that he’s watching him, if he’d blown any chance he had with the New Zealander. 

Though he doubts the other would notice, nose buried in his book, facial expression changing with every paragraph he read. He assumes he’s reached a tense moment, the smile going and being replaced by a furrowed brow and pursed lips, Wellesley shrinking back into the wool cardigan he wore.

Maybe they’re cold, worry nibbling at his lip and the thorns from the flowers digging into his hands as he wonders if he should go over and offer his coat, his scarf or something to keep him warm. Owen briefly thinks about cuddling the other before he’s as red as his shirt, pressing his face into the wall and silently hoping it swallows him up.

Why was it that his brothers could all get with someone easily and have fairly normal relationships, bar Arthur’s train wreck waiting to happen (again) with Sean, and yet he was stuck following them around like some school girl stalker?

Taking a moment to calm himself he pulled himself away from the wall, mentally telling himself that he was going to go and talk to him, he was going to do it. He was going to confess, give him the flowers and then hopefully not break down crying when he got rejected.

Yes, sounded like a plan. 

Looking back to the bench where Wellesley had been sat moments before, he whines as he finds it empty, deflating slightly and looking at the yellow roses in his hands. Maybe, maybe he shouldn’t say anything. Taking one glance at the crumpled and broken stems of the flowers he sighs, throwing them in the nearest bin.

It’d be worse for him if he came back with the flowers, besides he doubts Wellesley would want half destroyed flowers anyway.

\--

The rugby tickets had pretty much been forced upon him by Liam, his Irish brother giving him one of those looks before sauntering off with an air of ‘I know something you don’t know’, telling him to meet him outside the millennium stadium to see the match half an hour before the game started. 

He’s not sure why Liam bought tickets, he was going to buy one himself but who was he to turn down free rugby tickets. 

Hands in his pockets, rugby jersey and scarf on, he whistled as he waited for the arrival of his youngest brother. He can only wonder what is taking the other so long, looking up at the stadium, his pride and joy before turning back around as he suddenly heard someone clearing their throat. 

“Hello, have you seen Liam anywhere? I was supposed to be…” He hasn’t heard anything past the hello because damn, he looks good in his rugby uniform. Wellesley looks really good in his uniform. Oh no, he’s going red again. “Owen? Hello? You feeling okay there, you’re a bit red.” 

He only squeaks in response, pointing at the other then to himself and the stadium. He gets a confused look at first before the other laughs and grins, giving him one of those looks he normally saved for when it involved something with Australia. “You’re going against James, were you expecting me to support the idiot or something?”

He likes questions where he can just shake his head in response, could he get more of them? It wouldn’t mean embarrassing himself by speaking. “Well, I think we should go in. Liam can always find us inside, can’t he?” Owen doesn’t quite know how to function as the other takes him by the wrist, pretty much dragging him towards the ticket barriers, determined look on his face.

If Owen is perfectly honest with himself, he doesn’t know if he should punch Liam or kiss him.

\--

They lost. He wasn’t expecting them to do too well but they lost. He lost to Australia in front of New Zealand. He was definitely punching Liam for this. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands, muttering to himself in Welsh as everyone began to file out of the stadium. 

He can’t believe he lost.

“Played a good game, you know.” Wellesley offers, hand resting on Owen’s shoulder and he’s too ashamed of himself to even get a reaction from it. “Australia just played surprisingly well today; you’re going to do great in the six nations though. I can tell already.”

“No, I’m not. Arthur or Francis will win.”

He’s surprised by the laugh then, turning his head and looking at the other with some confusion. “So you can talk after all, James and Scott had me half convinced you were mute, though you will do well in the six nations. If you don’t win, I can see you stealing the grand slam from someone like Ireland did this year.”

He stands then, offering a hand to Wales who finally snaps out of it and remembers to flush a little. “We need to go find a pub, have some drinks and generally avoid James. Never really been to Cardiff so maybe you can show me around the place a little?”

Okay, he wasn’t punching Liam for this.

\--

He’s doing it again. he told himself he’d wait until the six nations before he did this. He told himself if he won he’d do this but he didn’t listen…as always. He swallows the lump in his throat as he makes his way over to the bench Wellesley is sat on, an inner mantra –that sounds suspiciously like Scott and Liam– telling him to keep calm and that he can do this. 

He hasn’t crushed the flowers yet, trying to keep his grip on them as loose as possible without letting them go, swallowing thickly as he stepped in front of the other, flowers behind his back, trying to keep his breathing as calm as possible. He wasn’t going to mess this up. He was going to do this.

“Oh hello, Owen. What are you-”

That’s when everything messes up, the flood gates opening before he’s bright red again, his ability to speak understandable English escaping him before he shouted a slew of Welsh, nervously watching the Kiwi as he waited for his response. 

“What?”

Oh that’s it, he failed. He’s going to reject him. Whining, Owen panicked, throwing the flowers at Wellesley and not really registering the stunned look on the other’s face before running off. He was never going to be able to look at the other again, why did he have to say something? Why didn’t he just stay quiet?

\--

He smiles a little after Owen has run off, fingers touching the daffodil petals and he shakes his head sighing. “Why didn’t you just say?” He laughed to himself, smiling fondly before getting up from his seat, taking his book and flowers with him. He’d let Owen know soon enough but first, first he’ll let him calm down.

And then, then he’d give him his response.

\--

It’s been a month since he’d thrown daffodils in Wellesley’s face. It’s been a month since he messed up his chances. He’s just thankful the six nations had been on, something to at least distract him from it all. But they were over now, he’d actually won them, laughing as another round of mocking Scott for getting the wooden spoon started, nearly choking on his cider as the Scot pointed out the Ireland’s had lost on their saints day to England.

The laughing is cut short as the door goes, all eyes turning to Owen he just gives them a blank look in response. “What?”

“Get the door.”

“Why do I have to get the door? I won!”

“Because Scott is weighed down by his wooden spoon, the Ireland’s are too drunk to even move.”

“And Arthur’s ego from beating drunker and drunker is too big to fit through the doorway.”

As Arthur and Scott started arguing, Owen sighed and got up, taking his cider with him because Liam had been eyeing it up since he had opened it. He silently hopes it isn’t the neighbours complaining about the noise, opening the door and sighing. “I’m really sorry about the noise; my brothers are drunk and sobbing because they all suck at rug…”

“I told you you’d win, didn’t I.”

Oh. He wasn’t expecting that. The words die on his tongue as he sees the other, suddenly remembering his confession in Welsh and the fact he’d thrown flowers at the other and going pink. He wants to shut the door. Shut the door and pretend this wasn’t happening because Wellesley was going to bring up everything and his brothers would drunkenly stumble in on his embarrassment. 

Which is just what he needed right now.

“Whilst I don’t understand Welsh, I kinda got the idea of what you said after you threw those flowers at me.” Oh no, this is where he got rejected. He was going to get rejected by the other. He let out a whimper as Wellesley continued talk, not hearing a word he said as he pictured the rejection now. 

“So, what I’m trying to say is...Actually, this will probably say it better.” 

Owen isn’t sure how it happens just that one minute he’s convinced he’s going to be rejected and the next minute the other is on his tip toes, kissing him and frankly it’s better than what he ever imagined. Nothing could ruin this now, not even Sean leaning round the door and shouting that kissing lead to pregnancy and that was were Liam came from.


End file.
